Father's Day Memories
by Rose DiVerona
Summary: Oneshot. It's Father's Day, and Riley relates the unpleasant story of his childhood and his abusive father to his best friend.


A/N: I know it isn't Father's Day for another week, but since I'll be in London when that date rolls around, I decided to submit this now. There are a countless number of 'Riley gets abused by his dad' fics around here, and I decided it was time to add mine to the ranks. With a twist: Father's Day memories. One-shot.

Disclaimer: I don't own National Treasure, because if I did, Riley would be the center of attention.

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**Father's Day Memories**

It was Father's Day, and Ben, Patrick, Emily, Abigail, and Riley were gathered at Patrick and Emily's house for dinner. While Emily and Abigail put the meal together in the kitchen, Ben and Patrick exchanged family stories in the living room and Riley hacked away at his PC. It was a while later that Ben realized Riley had slipped out of sight. Leaving his father looking through an old photo album, he entered the kitchen. Riley wasn't there, but Emily said she thought she heard the screen door to the back deck open at some point.

Ben peered through the door in question and saw his best friend sitting on the steps to the yard.

"Riley?" He opened the door and went out onto the deck. "What are you doing out here?"

Riley didn't answer immediately, gazing up at the stars. Ben sat down next to his friend.

"Look at the sky," Riley murmured thoughtfully. "It's so…big."

Ben was a bit startled by his friend's odd behavior, but he played along and smiled, craning his neck backward to catch a glimpse of the heavens as well.

"Well, it _is _the universe," he replied.

"Ben…when your dad dies, do you think he'll be up there?"

Ben knitted his brow, a bit startled by the strange question. "Uh…I hope so?" he answered, not exactly sure what the techie was getting at, theological discussion or otherwise.

"I hope so, too," Riley answered, "because I don't want him to meet my dad."

Ben stiffened automatically, instantly on alert. Riley had always been secretive about his family life, never revealing anything other than that he had been an only child and his dad was a jerk. Now, however, it appeared that the man was ready to talk. He turned to look at Ben at last.

"I never told you about my father, did I?"

Ben shook his head. "You don't have to-"

"I want to," Riley said quietly. "It's Father's Day. What better time to get it out?"

Ben remained silent, waiting.

Riley sighed and twisted his fingers together, looking down at them instead of at Ben.

"My father never loved me," he began. "From the day that I was born, I was just another mouth to feed. He was a construction worker, which didn't make much money, especially considering his daily rations of cigarettes and beer. There was never enough left for food, certainly not enough for diapers or other baby supplies. I called him daddy, but to me he was never really a father, and when I got older I ended up calling him his name, Jeff, behind his back. I hated him. Little kids aren't supposed to know what hate is, but I did. Mostly I hated him because he was mean to my mother. He called her 'worthless,' screamed at her constantly, blamed her for having no money…I was three the first time he hit her. She cried and pleaded for forgiveness, but that only made him angrier. I began to think it was my job to protect my mother, who was always kind to me, from my father's unpredictable rage. Have you ever seen _Sweeney Todd_?"

Ben nodded wordlessly.

"Yeah, well it was like I was Toby and she was Mrs. Lovett. I was determined to take care of her. She was all I had, because I never made friends. When I was six, my father discovered a new punching bag. Me. Whenever things went badly at work, he'd take it out on me. First it was verbal, but then it got physical. My mother tried to protect me, at first…but he'd lock her in another room and later he would scream at her, too. After awhile, she began to turn the other cheek. Ignore my bruises and my cries and pleas. I never figured out whether she was too scared to help me or whether her mind had been twisted into thinking I deserved what I got.

"I stopped going to school. The signs of my abuse were too obvious, so my father forbade me to go and my mother begged me to obey. She called the school, made up excuses. I was very ill, school was too much of a strain…all I knew was a never-ending nightmare. Beatings at night, and the anticipation of more beatings throughout the day. Finally, the school said I _had _to come or they would investigate. So I went, my bruises heavily disguised or passed off as sports injuries. Anyone who even took a moment to look at me would know instantly I didn't play sports.

"I didn't make friends. I was quiet, scrawny, and pale. A magnet for bullies. So I faced bullies 24/7. And I was never strong enough to stand up to them. One day in class, when I was in seventh grade, we watched an anti-bullying video that talked both about school bullies and child abuse. I laughed at how much the video glamorized it. When the teacher asked if I thought it was funny, I choked and started crying. She sent me to the counselor, but I refused to explain anything, because I knew that if my father heard about it he would beat me up even worse than usual. Unfortunately, she called home that very evening, and I got the worst beating I ever experienced. I was out of school for a week.

"At this point, I'd lost faith in my mother. I still loved her, but I lost all the fantasies about us protecting each other. Dad hardly ever hit my mother anymore, anyways. It was about this time that I discovered my gift for computers, completely by accident. I was at school, messing around in the computer lab, when I accidentally hacked into the school's mainframe. I never told anyone. It was my little secret, and it stayed that way for years. I found I could get into other places, and a whole new world opened up – a world where I could forget about my life for a while. We didn't have a computer at home, so school and the library became my favorite places to go.

"My father's abuse only worsened as I grew older. I wasn't afraid of him anymore, but I was afraid for my mother. High school graduation arrived, and even though my father had forbidden me to leave for college, I'd made up my mind to run away. I was eighteen, so he couldn't legally stop me. And I had a scholarship to a D.C. college, not too far from our Maryland home. But I didn't want to leave my mother. I begged her to come with me, but she refused and broke down into sobs, clinging to me, begging me to stay. But I realized that, however much I loved her, she had to protect herself now. I was through.

"I left for college, and never heard from my parents. When I was a junior, just after my twenty-first birthday, I got a call from social services. They told me that my father had been arrested and was awaiting trial. Apparently, the neighbors heard screaming one night and called the police. When the police came…"

Riley trailed off, gazing blankly ahead. Ben put a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder, and the younger man continued.

"They found my mother, dead, in her bedroom. All signs showed that she'd been beaten to death with a lamp, and my father was found with blood on his hands and his fingerprints on the lamp. And he confessed to it all, including abusing me. They wanted me to testify at his trial, but I refused with the knowledge that whether I did or not, my father would be put away for life.

"I didn't even go to my mother's funeral. I never, ever wanted to be reminded of my home life again. When they sent me her things, I kept only a few trinkets…a few memories of her as I remembered her before the abuse began. And…" he sighed. "Well, that's it, I guess. I moved on and met you, and the rest…is history. I just want your dad to go to Heaven, Ben, because I know my dad's going to Hell, and I never want them to meet. Patrick's so great…you don't know how lucky you have it."

He sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

Ben put his arm around his friend. "I had no idea, Riley. I'm sorry." He thought about his own father. Yes, they got in arguments and didn't always agree. But they were still close, especially for the past few years. Riley had never had that closeness with his father.

They sat for a while in silence. Then the sound of the screen door opening startled them into turning around. Abigail poked her head out.

"Dinner's ready, boys."

Ben nodded. "Be there in a minute." When they were alone, he turned to Riley. "Are you going to be okay?"

Riley nodded. "Yeah. I've gotten through Father's Day without him all these years, and I don't need him ruining this evening."

"My dad thinks of you as a son, too, you know," Ben said quietly as they got to their feet.

Riley's face lit up. "Really?"

Ben nodded and opened the door. "You'll see."

Dinner was already on the table, Patrick seated in the place of honor. Emily and Abigail entered with the last few platters and sat strategically, leaving empty places to Patrick's either side. Ben sat down next to Abigail, leaving Riley standing alone in indecision.

Patrick gestured to the spot between himself and his wife. "Your place is here, son."

Riley smiled in relief, sliding into the appropriate seat.

Patrick leaned over and whispered in his ear. "Tonight, and any time you like, you're my son, too."

Riley grinned.

"Happy Father's Day."

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A/N: I hope you liked it. You know what to do...


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